


The Yard Man

by tejas



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Christmas, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-09
Updated: 2010-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tejas/pseuds/tejas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel finds it more and more difficult to get close to anyone outside the SGC. Sometimes, though, he finds it harder not to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Yard Man

Daniel turned onto his street and finally remembered what had been nagging at him for the full three weeks he'd been off world. His house was easy to pick out even from almost a block away. All the others sported neatly manicured lawns.

All but his.

The day before SG1 left for PX9-420 he'd gotten a call from his yard man's sister. She was calling all his customers to let them know that her brother wouldn't be able to fulfill his contracts with them due to his health. She'd assured him her brother would be fine in time, but he wouldn't be doing yard work any longer if she had anything to say about. She'd given him the names of several people her brother considered worthwhile and he'd fully intended to call one of them before they gated out.

Right.

After speaking with Mrs. Stoltz for a few minutes, he'd hung up the phone only to have it ring again. That was the last time he thought consciously about his now orphaned lawn. The translation SG5 needed to gain access to the ruins on P3R-932 was much more important as were the final preparations for SG1's mission to check on the people they'd helped through a nasty epidemic and who had naquadah they might just be willing to share with their new Taur'i friends. All thoughts of his neighbors' disapproving looks and nasty notes from the neighborhood association had vanished in the face of more pressing matters.

All of which came flooding back as he tiredly parked his car in his driveway and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. It was early enough in the day that he could do this himself. At least it was early enough on Earth. Three weeks wasn't nearly long enough to adapt to the longer diurnal cycle of the Anosian's world. It had been early morning when they'd gotten back to this side of the gate. It had been nearly midnight on the Anosian side and that after an all day celebration that started far too early and was probably still going on despite the absence of the guests of honor. So, while there was daylight to burn, Daniel felt pretty well burned out.

Daniel climbed out of his car slowly. He hoped Mrs. Anson wasn't lying in wait for him, if she said one word, he wouldn't be responsible for his actions. His next door neighbor seemed to take great delight in letting him know just how poorly he reflected on the rest of them. He once asked Sam if she could come up with a miniature 'zat for him to smuggle off base. She'd laughed but, sadly, refused, even when he promised not to use it on anyone but Mrs. "I wasn't aware you were renting" Anson. Some days he wished he was. He'd moved to get away from better neighbors than her.

"Hey, Mister!" Daniel turned, grateful at least that there was no way the boy could possibly be associated with his most annoying neighbor. She disliked him only slightly less than she disliked children. The unfamiliar youngster approaching from across the street could be anywhere from ten to fourteen. He paused in the driveway and let the kid come to him. He was too tired to do more than try to paste an interested expression on his face. As the boy got closer, Daniel automatically started cataloging details about him. Dark hair, fair skin tanned to near bronze from more sun than Colorado Springs had been having so far in the year. His clothes were all brand new and a little on the large side. Not too much so, but obviously purchased with the thought that he'd grow into them and out of them before he wore them out. Daniel had come to appreciate that tactic during his childhood. It had at least meant fewer hand-me-downs; something he'd hated with a passion. The boy looked thin, but that could have been due to the slightly baggy clothes. It was the dark circles under haunted eyes and the smile that never quite reached them, though, that got Daniel's attention and softened his irritation at the intrusion.

"Hi, something I can do for you?" Daniel shifted his bags a little, prepared to hear the boy out but not wanting to drop anything.

"My uncle," the boy pointed back across the street, "said Mr. Ortega used to do your yard work." That explained a child at Tom Stanton's house. He hadn't thought Tom had any children. For that matter, he hadn't seen much of him at all since Tom's wife moved out 'to stay with a sick aunt' a few months before.

"Oh, yes," Daniel hoped this boy wasn't a mini-Mrs. Anson. "Yes, he did, but I had to go, um, out of town on business and wasn't able to get anyone else before I left." Daniel shrugged and gave the boy his best 'please don't sacrifice me to your false god' smile. It seemed to work better on the boy than it usually did off world because the kid's smile widened and if his eyes were still haunted, Daniel didn't let on that he could tell.

"If you want, I'll cut it for you." Before Daniel could respond, the kid was off on his sales pitch. He rattled off a list of his customers, pointing to the houses as he went, apparently so Daniel could see examples of his skill. Not that Daniel was much of a judge of such things at the moment. He knew the only reason he'd noticed his lawn's disgraceful condition was the impulse to call for backup before getting too close. A platoon of jaffa could be hiding in there and never be seen. Mrs. Anson versus a platoon of jaffa. He yanked his mind away from that happy thought and refocused on his visitor. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could become one with his bed.

"How much?" The boy named a price that seemed a little too low to Daniel's ears. He looked at his yard and tried to appear to be considering. Haggling was something Daniel could do in his sleep, and nearly was at this point. He'd learned this quite literally at his father's knee and it was a knack he'd never lost. Usually, though, the point of haggling was to get the lowest price. Still, it wouldn't be the first time he'd turned the practice on its ear. What little evidence he'd gathered about the boy in his driveway added up to an unhappy story. He refused to add to whatever burden the boy was carrying.

"Tell you what." Daniel turned back to the boy, "Cut, rake, sweep and edge and I'll give you your price plus," he pretended to consider, "fifteen percent, but not a penny more." He'd purposely left out weeding. He wanted to see if the boy would pick up on it. The boy looked thoughtful and Daniel pursed his lips to keep from smiling. The boy was bright and seemed to have figured out there was a game going on, he just didn't seem to be quite sure of the rules. He looked at the yard and made a big show of squatting down and running his fingers through the long thick grass. Maybe he did know the rules.

"How about I weed, too, for another five percent?" Daniel raised an eyebrow, rather than grinning, and continued the game. He, too, looked appraisingly at his lawn, but bypassed the tactile display. The boy's final price was just about half what Daniel had figured he'd have to pay a professional for a first visit, especially a first visit like this. Jack would have a fit and tease him unmercifully for weeks if he ever found out what he was willing to pay a kid for this.

"Done." Daniel freed his right hand and held it out to the boy who took it and shook. "Please tell me you can work me in today?" Daniel leaned down and lowered his voice, "I really don't want to have to face Mrs. Anson if I can avoid it." The boy giggled behind his hand.

"I don't know if I can do it all today, but I can get the front done today." The kid shrugged. "Uncle Tom makes me stop at five o'clock." He looked as if he considered this vastly unfair. Daniel thought it showed remarkable good sense. The boy in front of him was far too familiar in far too many ways. It wouldn't surprise Daniel in the slightest to find him willing and able to work until he dropped if he thought it was worthwhile.

"That works. Backyard tomorrow?" The boy nodded eagerly. "Not," Daniel raised one finger in an unconscious imitation of Jack, "before noon. Please, not before noon." He might have to put up with the drone of mowers from other people's yards at some ungodly hour, but he didn't have to put up with it in his yard. Mr. Ortega had been very accommodating in that.

"Yes, sir!" The boy darted off when Daniel realized they weren't quite finished.

"Wait!" The kid stopped and turned to come back up the driveway, looking dejected. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Daniel tried to remember how much cash he had in his wallet. One of the hazards of being off world was loosing track of such mundane details. He set his bags down and reached into his pocket. The boy perked up immediately when he realized his deal wasn't falling through. Daniel sighed in relief when he saw he could pay him without going to the bank. He counted out half the price and held it out. "Half now, the rest when you finish tomorrow." The boy took the money and apparently having been properly schooled in such things, counted it quickly and unobtrusively then folded it and stuck it in his pocket. He turned away again but stopped on his own before Daniel could call him back.

"Oh! My name's Ronnie Stanton."

"And I'm Daniel Jackson."

"Thanks, Mr. Jackson."

"No, thank you, Mr. Stanton." Ronnie looked a little stunned at being addressed in such an adult fashion, but what started as a joke, transformed into a plan of action when Ronnie's shoulders squared and his spine straightened with pride. The boy, no, the young man turned away again and _walked_ down the driveway. His self-imposed dignity lasted until the middle of the street when he broke into an energetic run. He didn't miss a step as he disappeared into his uncle's house.

The rest of the day vanished into slumber for Daniel. The days of downtime that followed were spent doing the usual post-mission chores and becoming reacquainted with life on Earth. There was a team barbeque at Jack's that ended up dragging into the night, and the resulting hangover. Mostly, they all spent a few days not being responsible for anything more pressing than balancing checkbooks and deciding between ground chuck and ground round at the grocery store. Then Daniel was back at work. Missions came and went, projects appeared, disasters were narrowly averted and translations were completed or shelved for lack of time. Through it all, whenever Daniel went home, he did so without having to worry that Mrs. Anson could ambush him about his lawn. The day Ronnie first finished his back yard, they'd struck a deal for the rest of the summer. Ronnie did the yard work every week, if Daniel was there or not and Daniel had his bank send Ronnie's uncle a check. Daniel had 'allowed' himself to be charged a five percent surcharge for paying by check, but it worked well for all concerned.

He didn't see much of his new yard man, but he saw the evidence. Ronnie did very good work and though some of his neighbors had eventually hired professional services again, Daniel and a few others had continued paying the boy to do theirs. When he did encounter 'Mr. Stanton', he was struck not only by the boy's single mindedness but by his familiarity. Daniel didn't spend much time or energy dwelling on his own childhood. Nothing after the death of his parents had been particularly difficult, at least nothing unrelated to their deaths. It had taken him years to come to terms with their loss. But he hadn't been abused or neglected. Remembering those years with the perspective of adulthood allowed him to evaluate events differently than he had as he'd lived through them. Being forced to do his chores before going to the library was hardly abuse, no matter what he'd told his social worker when he was twelve. The therapy the court had required before granting him emancipation so he could go to college early had given him some useful tools, too. As he'd regained his memories from before his ascension, he'd been drawn to try and look up some of the couples who'd fostered him, to thank them. He'd only actually located Mr. and Mrs. Adams. Finding that they'd both died in a car accident three years after he'd moved on to the Wilsons' put a damper on his desire to look further. Even the gut feeling he had whenever he spoke to Ronnie hadn't really prepared him for the talk he'd had with Tom to finalize the payment arrangement he'd made with Ronnie.

"Daniel!"

Daniel added the last grocery bag to the others hanging from his hand and turned to look across the street. He closed his car and walked down his driveway to meet Tom Stanton who was jogging across the street toward him.

"Tom." Daniel smiled and nodded to the man.

"Glad I caught you." Tom gestured to the bags Daniel held, "need to get any of that in the freezer?"

"No, it's fine. What can I do for you?" Daniel hoped this wouldn't take long. He didn't have anything frozen, but with the team coming over in a few hours, he really needed to get the roast in the oven. Jack got twitchy when dinner was late and Teal'c had a bad habit of baiting him. Come to think of it, that was usually well worth the price of admission on its own.

"First, I want to thank you for taking Ronnie on." Tom shook his head before Daniel could respond. "No, I know he's just a kid and you could easily afford to hire a pro, so I'm very grateful." Tom stopped, a sad expression on his face.

"I'm the one who should be thanking you. Your nephew is a hard worker and it's, it's nice to see a boy working for something he wants." Daniel found himself hoping Tom was about to tell him about the far too expensive bike or video game system Ronnie was saving for. Somehow he knew he was hoping in vain.

"I don't know what Ronnie's told you, but," Tom rubbed his eyes and coughed before meeting Daniel's eyes again. "Ronnie's folks," he stopped and took a deep breath, "my brother and his wife," Tom looked down again, seemingly unable to continue.

"Tom, you don't have to say anything you don't want to." Daniel's neighbor looked up at him. "I think I can guess." Tom nodded, his eyes moist. "How long is he going to be with you?" Daniel was conscious of the weight of the bags in his hand, the sound of a car driving down the street, two jays squabbling in a tree as he waited for the answer. It surprised him to find how much it mattered that it be the right one. At least what he thought would be the right one. Daniel tried to read Tom's expression and realized he'd said the wrong thing.

"Don't worry, Daniel," Tom's voice's was hard, "you're not going to lose your hired hand." He turned to go. "Sorry to bother you. I really just wanted to tell you it was fine if you want to pay Ronnie by check. Hate for you to have to worry about mingling with the help." Stiff with anger, Tom strode back across the street, ignoring Daniel's call and leaving Daniel standing alone in his driveway feeling like the world's biggest jerk.

Daniel kicked himself throughout putting away his groceries and getting the roast into the oven. As he finished clearing up the mess, he decided he needed to apologize. He'd inadvertently insulted the man and didn't want to let it go any longer than he already had. He walked across the street and hesitated a moment before ringing the doorbell. Some days he wondered why SG1 wasn't all dead by now given how often they depended on him to talk their way out of trouble. Oh, wait. They _have_ died. So much for that. He studied the welcome mat while he waited and only looked up when the door opened.

"Daniel." Tom stood there still radiating grief-laced anger.

"Tom, I," Daniel took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry. I was out of line back there." Tom's expression softened a little. Daniel generally viewed his neighbors as people he held at arm's length. There had been a time when he would have been involved with them, but years with the SGC had tempered that. It wasn't just his erratic schedule, but he was used to being able to at least talk about his work, even if it bored everyone around him. He was generally very good at not sharing what he considered private. His work was the one thing that had never been particularly private before. But then Ronnie appeared in his driveway and he suddenly he was caught up in the edges of their grief. He didn't want to be the cause of any more trouble for this family. "I had no reason to assume, um, well, I'm just really, really sorry." _Eloquent as ever, Jackson_.

"I'm the one that's sorry, Daniel." Tom seemed to accept his apology. "It's been a rough few weeks and I took it out on you." Tom looked back over his shoulder and took a step back. Daniel knew what was coming and knew with equal certainty that he didn't want to go there. If he went in they'd talk and he'd get drawn farther into their lives than he was comfortable with. He had the vague impression that Tom didn't used to be home during the day. A little voice in his head whispered that they might just get drawn into his life and wasn't that really what he was worried about? "You wanna…" Tom nodded his head toward the inside of his home as he opened the door a little wider.

"No," Daniel smiled in embarrassment at his emphatic tone, "I've got people coming by this evening and I've got to get back to it." Okay, so there wasn't much he still needed to do, but he did not want to have this talk. Not now. Maybe one day, but this was too much too soon. "I just wanted to apologize for," he smiled and chuckled uncomfortably, "for being a jerk."

"Not a jerk, Daniel. Ronnie needs this." Daniel nodded, sobering. "He's still talking about you calling him 'Mr. Stanton'." Tom grinned and Daniel matched it as he turned away. "Hey, thanks again."

"No problem." Daniel took a step then turned back to the door, his smile gone. "Tom," he met the other man's eyes and wished he could convey what he was feeling without going into details. "Ronnie's lucky to have you. No matter what else has happened, never forget he's very lucky to have you." With that, Daniel headed home, trying very hard not to think about what ifs.

Summer drew to a close and Daniel's yard man was back in school. They'd renegotiated to include Ronnie helping keep Daniel's driveway and walk clear of snow and ice, though Daniel figured he'd still be doing most of that. Just knowing he might be able to park his car after being off world for a week in the dead of winter was worth far more than he was paying the boy.

After the first cold snap, Daniel's suspicions about Tom's employment status were confirmed. Ronnie was raking leaves in Daniel's backyard, shivering in his too-thin jacket. When asked, he'd shrugged and said his uncle was going to take him shopping again once he got a new job. The next time he saw Ronnie, he looked much warmer in the brand new coat and gloves. Daniel just smiled when Ronnie wondered where his uncle had gotten the money because he didn't really believe he'd just found it. Daniel saw Tom later that day and he just smiled and shrugged at Tom's look of gratitude. He wondered if Tom had seen him leave the package or if the man had just figured it out. Didn't matter. Ronnie had what he needed and that was the most important thing.

Then, in the blink of an eye, it seemed, the holidays were around the corner.

He saw Ronnie from time to time, and it seemed the youngster was doing well. The circles under his eyes decreased, but didn't go away completely. He filled out some, but still didn't look especially comfortable in his skin. As long as he was talking with someone, he was animated, but when caught in a moment of solitude, the weight of his grief was still obvious. But the boy worked and he worked hard. The talk with Tom never happened, which Daniel was grateful for. He'd learned a long time ago that while sharing grief can sometimes lighten the load, just as often it increased it. It was nice to interact with people who had no idea you were different than you used to be. People you got to know after the fact could treat you as an ordinary person rather than as a grieving person with all the baggage attached to that. Solicitude could be a terrible burden.

The week before Christmas found Daniel in a perpetual state of exhaustion. Too many missions spaced too closely together, more than a few ending with the hundred yard dash with added weapons fire SG1 seemed to have perfected over the years, had left them all tired down to the bone. Finally the universe appeared to have taken pity on them; no crises had arisen at the last moment, no megalomaniacal System Lord had so much as jaywalked across the galactic street. Hammond had almost grinned as he bestowed upon them a week of leave just in time for the holidays.

Sam was gone with Jacob to visit her brother, Teal'c left that morning to spend time with Ry'ac and Bra'tac, and Jack was incommunicado at his parents' house but due back on Christmas Eve. Jack had invited himself over for Christmas, a gesture not lost on Daniel considering it was his first since returning to Earth. He fully expected the rest of his team to drop by unannounced as well and had shopped accordingly, just in case. He still needed a tree and gifts, but as yet he had gotten no further than the sofa and the legal pad he found himself doodling on in lieu of actually making a list. His brain had gone on strike and the negotiations were clearly not going well. The only thing that was certain was that he was getting a Noble Fir. With all the space between the branches, they took almost no time to decorate.

A sharp knock on his door woke Daniel from the almost hypnotic concentration on the concentric circle wormhole his pen had independently formed on the paper. Shaking off the lethargy, Daniel rose and stumbled to the door. Through the glass he could see Tom. An almost frantic looking Tom.

"What's wrong?"

Tom had to take a deep breath before he could speak. "It's Ronnie. He's gone. Run away, I think."

"Did anything happen to upset him?"

"That's just it, Daniel. Nothing's happened. I just got a new job, not a great one but enough to keep us going. I was even able to get a tree and a few Christmas presents with my first paycheck. I thought things were looking up for both of us. Did he say anything to you?"

Daniel tried to remember the last time he had seen the boy. At least a week, he believed; definitely before that last mission. He had been called in late one morning on what was supposed to have been a day off. Ronnie had been clearing the sidewalk, having already finished the drive. With no time to talk, Daniel had waved his thanks to the boy noting only that Ronnie seemed more intense in his work than usual.

Relaying his impressions to Tom, the other man sighed in defeat.

"I was hoping… he likes you." Tom said, as if that explained everything.

"I'm sorry, Tom," Daniel offered, genuinely worried. "Do you want some help looking for him?"

The other man nodded gratefully. "I've been down the block to the west, maybe if you can take the east? First the neighborhood then further out toward the school. I'll go toward the arcade and the strip mall on Ninth."

Reaching for his jacket and keys, Daniel wanted to offer comfort but found the words reluctant to be spoken. Things didn't always work out. Kids didn't always come home. The only sure thing in life, Daniel had learned, is that there was nothing sure about it. There was no way to prepare, no words that would make a bit of difference when it came.

He clapped Tom on the shoulder as the other man handed him a slip of paper with his cell number then set out on foot in the direction of the mid-morning sun. He would walk down to the end of the block and back around then pick up his car to go to the school. He got as far as the next house, up the slight rise of sidewalk, when he realized it was a good vantage point to view the neighborhood.

Looking back, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The Jenkins' crèche was lacking a baby Jesus again; either the Murdoch's dog or their anarchist-pretender son was at it again. The Williamson's needed to clean their sidewalk before Mr. Williamson's mother came home from the hospital the next day. The Brennons were gone to Napa again, the stack of newspapers on their doorstep was an obvious giveaway. Mrs. Adams' Christmas lights were blinking out of synch again, the decorating company was probably on her speed dial.

Strange, Daniel thought, he would have told anyone who asked that he knew next to nothing about his neighbors. It appeared he knew more than he ever expected about this strange community of his, this world he worked almost daily to save but had rarely felt a part of.

Shrugging his shoulders, Daniel started to turn and continue his search when he noticed lumps in the snow coming from the back of the Rosen's brick Tudor and heading toward his own backyard. He was walking back before he was even aware and as he got closer he could see the lumps were footsteps.

As trails went, it didn't take a Teal'c to follow this one through the bushes and around the back of the house and right into the Rose of Sharon trees that delineated his rear property line. Jack still envied him the thirty year old bushes that had forgotten they were never supposed to grow this big or thick. Bending down, Daniel could see a patch of blue beneath the trees. It was Ronnie.

For a moment, Daniel just stood there, flooded with relief that the boy was all right. Then he shook his head because hiding under a bush rarely meant "all right" by anyone's definition. The thought that he should call Tom immediately flitted through his mind, followed by the more pressing need to see just how not all right Ronnie was, first. Daniel crouched down and peered under the bushes.

"So, what do you think, Mr. Stanton?" Daniel tried to capture the tone he usually used with Ronnie; businesslike, but friendly. Normal. "Should I have these pruned before spring?" The figure under his shrubs curled up even more tightly at his words, his face hidden behind his arms wrapped around his knees. A muffled sob was the only sound that reached Daniel's ears. _Brilliant, Jackson_. Daniel shook his head at his own clumsiness. Ronnie needed a friend, not a neighbor and certainly not a client. Daniel didn't know what particular event sent the boy to ground in his yard, but no matter how much he wanted to ignore it, it didn't take a genius to know it had something to do with his grief.

"Ronnie." This time, Daniel let the sadness he felt every time he thought of Ronnie color his voice. "Please come out, Ronnie." Daniel pushed aside the lower branches to make it easier for the boy to leave his haven. "It's cold out here and your uncle's frantic."

"I don't care! I don't care! I'm not coming out!" Daniel settled one knee on the ground and rubbed the back of his neck. The wind had picked up and he shivered as it seemed to cut right through his coat.

"Ronnie, you can't stay under there forever. You've got to go home sometime." Fresh sobs erupted from the huddled figure and Daniel bowed his head in frustration.

"You don't understand! Nobody understands!" The garbled words hit Daniel with the force of a staff blast. He didn't need to ask the boy to repeat them. Daniel knew exactly what he'd said as his own voice echoed them in his memory.

He had at least taken refuge indoors, but kneeling in his snow covered Colorado Springs backyard thirty years after the fact, he could still smell the unique odor of paper and leather and that elusive scent all old libraries seemed to share. He felt his memories realign once again as he viewed them with this new perspective. This time he was the adult trying to coax a shattered child out of hiding and for all his memories of his own pain, at that moment he had no idea how to do it.

"I know." Instinctively, he knew just dragging the boy out was the wrong way to go. Ronnie needed to want to come out. What he didn't need was someone spouting platitudes or threats or using guilt to bring him out. More than anything else, right now he needed someone who understood. On the day they met, Daniel had given him something important. He'd given Ronnie someone who hadn't known him before; someone who didn't burden him with useless pity. He'd given him a sort of fresh start and treated him with respect. Suddenly, Daniel knew exactly why his yard man was huddled in his backyard. And just maybe, he knew what Ronnie needed now.

"My parents were archeologists." Daniel hooked the branch he was holding back over another one to keep it out of the way. Then he shifted and sat down in the snow, unconsciously crossing his legs as if he were sitting in Teal'c's room for one of their meditation sessions. "We lived all over the Middle East, sometimes in Europe and sometimes we came home to America." Daniel shrugged and darted a glance at the figure under the shrub. Ronnie's face was barely visible, but at least he was now watching; focusing on something outside his own pain.

"When I was a little bit younger than you are, they died." Daniel stared at his hands as he rubbed them together in his lap. He'd neglected to get his gloves before he left the house. "A few months later, I ran away from home." _In for a penny, Jackson_. "From the foster home I was living in at the time." He looked up and met Ronnie's eyes. "Everything was just too much, y'know? Trying to figure out what my foster parents wanted from me, trying to make from one day to the next." He shook his head and looked back at his cold-reddened hands. "It just hit me one day. I looked around and the room they gave me and all the stuff they'd bought for me and none of it seemed real." Again, he met the youngster's haunted eyes, "They didn't seem real, either." He shrugged again. "So I left." Daniel drew his legs up so he could wrap his arms around them and rested his chin on his knees, unconsciously mirroring Ronnie's pose.

"Where did you go?" Ronnie's voice was rough from crying and almost too quiet to hear. Daniel smiled.

"I went to the library." For a split second, the incredulous look on Ronnie's face reminded him of Jack's after Daniel had told him he'd never seen a hockey game. "Hey, _you_ have no room to talk. _You_ ran away to my backyard." Daniel raised his eyebrows at the boy as if daring him to dispute the matter. A small fleeting smile answered his unspoken challenge. "I like libraries. It was," Daniel sighed heavily, "it was safe."

Daniel had never told anyone else about this before. Oh, he'd had to deal with questions from his foster parents and his social worker, but since he'd only been missing for a couple of hours in the middle of the day, the police hadn't been brought into it. He'd gotten away with saying he'd gotten lost and scared and didn't know what to do. Looking back, he realized he probably hadn't fooled anyone.

No matter where he'd lived with his parents, they'd always had their books with them. Tents, apartments, hotel rooms, the battered crates of books always had pride of place. After their death, Daniel had taken refuge in books. While he studied or just read, he could pretend, for just a few hours, that none of it was real. His parents were just outside or in the other room and this was just one more place they lived for a time while they gathered funding for the next dig.

"I like your backyard, Mr. Jackson." Daniel looked up at the hesitant voice. He'd been lost for a few moments in his memories and felt guilty for his distraction. "I feel s-safe here." Daniel's stomach clinched with sudden fear, fear he managed to keep out of his voice.

"Ronnie, can you tell me what happened today?" Ronnie shrugged then looked down as he idly fingered his shoelaces. Daniel chose his next words carefully. He didn't want to scare the boy any more than he already was. "Did something happen that made you not feel safe at your uncle's house?"

Daniel held his breath, waiting for a response, hoping it wouldn't be the one he feared. He'd been lucky in his placements as a boy, but he'd known others who hadn't been. Some of the stories the older children told during his brief stays at the orphanage were obviously exaggerated, but there was no hiding the underlying threads. No way to hide the boys and girls who weren't there any more or the reactions of the adults when someone asked about them; the whispered conversations behind closed doors.

"It's _wrong_!" The boy's voice cracked with emotion.

Daniel took a deep, steadying breath and slowly unclenched his fists but couldn't rid himself of the tension and anger focused on an unknown person. He tried very hard not to place Tom in that position. Daniel just couldn't see the frantic man who'd come to his door as a child abuser. Tom's fear _for_ his nephew had been painfully genuine. Daniel closed his eyes for a moment until he felt he could speak calmly. First he had to take care of Ronnie. After that, well, _things_ sometimes happened before the police arrived.

"Ronnie, can you tell me what was wrong?" The boy mumbled something to his knees. "I'm sorry, could you say that again?"

"The _tree_! It's wrong!" Daniel blinked dizzily in confusion as his adrenaline rush dissipated and the boy's sobs began again. Ronnie wasn't hurt. No one had touched him. He ran away because…because of a _tree. Get real, you know that's not why_. Right. He ran because it was wrong. Daniel rubbed a cold hand over his face to hide his relieved smile. What Ronnie was going through was nothing to smile about, but it could have been so much worse. At least he wouldn't have to explain to the General why he was spending Christmas in jail for beating a child molester to a pulp.

"Ronnie, why don't we go inside where it's warm." Ronnie shrugged, but didn't leave his hideout. "I could use some hot chocolate right about now," the boy's face made an appearance at the mention of chocolate. "And just between you and me," Daniel leaned closer before continuing, "my butt's numb." He heard something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle followed by a sniff from under the bushes. "How about it?" Daniel indicated his house with a nod of his head.

"My butt's numb, too." Ronnie's voice was rough as he started to unfold himself and Daniel groaned dramatically as he stood up and then reached a hand down to help the boy out of the bushes. Ronnie stood looking down at the indentation in the snow where Daniel had been sitting. It was beginning to ice over where his body heat had melted it.

"We used to," Ronnie's voice broke and he cleared his throat before continuing, "every year we used to go and pick out a Christmas tree." Daniel dropped back down to one knee and took the boy's cold hands in his own, gently blowing on them to warm them.

"I bet those were fun times." Daniel checked for signs of frostbite even though he didn't think it likely. It gave him something to look at other than Ronnie's face. The boy had come out in the open, but Daniel sensed he still needed at least the semblance of privacy. Still looking at the warming hands in his, Daniel caught Ronnie's slight nod out of the corner of his eye.

"What you said earlier." Now Daniel looked up and met Ronnie's gaze. "I, I came home from Mrs. Adams' house. I stay with her while Uncle Tom's at work." Daniel nodded his understanding. "And, and," Ronnie's face screwed up as he fought to keep the tears back. Daniel couldn't stand it any longer and wrapped his arms around the shuddering child and let him sob into his coat. He rocked the boy slowly and whispered whatever nonsense came to mind. It wasn't the words that mattered, just the closeness, just the knowing that someone cared and understood. When Ronnie pulled away a little, Daniel let him go, but still kept his arms loosely around him while the boy wiped his face.

"So, you came home and found…"

"Uncle Tom bought a tree and it's the _wrong kind_! It's a _stupid Colorado Blue Spruce_ and the ornaments don't look right on it and, and I _hate it_!"

"Are you sure it's the tree that's the problem," Daniel asked softly. Ronnie shrugged and looked back down at his feet. "You know, it's okay to miss them." He shrugged again. Daniel touched Ronnie's chin with his finger and gently pulled the boy's face up. "You can't fool me on this, you know. Been there, Mr. Stanton." The corners of Daniel's mouth quirked up in an almost-there smile and Ronnie replied in kind.

"It's just, everything's been so different but Uncle Tom's been so good to me." Ronnie's smile warmed as he mentioned his uncle. "I know he misses them, too, but he always looks out for me." He rubbed his eyes with both hands and cleared his throat again. "I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but I wanted, I wanted," Daniel thought he was about to break down again, but Ronnie's voice evened out as he looked away, obviously embarrassed now by his behavior. "I didn't know how to say it, so I just ran."

"It's okay, you know. To be scared and not know what to do." Ronnie shrugged and Daniel wasn't sure he believed it. "To be honest, I'm honored that you picked my bushes as your safe place." All the years spent hanging out with Jack had to be worth something.

"You are?"

"Yes, indeed, I am positively glowing with pride." Daniel got back to his feet and gestured to his house. "But as much as I'm honored and all and as much as I love my backyard and the excellent care you give it, I'm cold." Daniel added a touch of a whine to the end of his statement and tried to look as miserable as possible and got a slight giggle for his efforts. "Let's go in and get warm, shall we?" Daniel put a hand on Ronnie's shoulder and gently guided him through the snow. "We'll call your uncle and when he gets here, I have a proposition for the two of you." Ronnie looked puzzled. "Trust me, Mr. Stanton. It's the perfect solution."

Christmas dinner had been a success. As he'd suspected, Sam and Teal'c had both drifted in Christmas Eve afternoon bearing gifts and covered dishes and the four of them had watched A _Christmas Story_ at least three full times before Teal'c insisted on changing the channel. Eventually, Sam volunteered to drive Teal'c back to the base and then back to Daniel's for Christmas Day. Daniel suspected she had something she wanted to check on in her lab, but didn't say anything.

Coffee was brewing and the cleanup was going well, though three large men were almost three too many for Daniel's compact kitchen. Still, years of teamwork paid off and they got the dish washer going and the food put away with a minimum of breakage. Sam had volunteered to set up the table with all the desserts, so she was able to escape the hubbub.

"She's just trying to get to the pie first." Jack raised his voice so Sam would be sure to hear him in the living room.

"You could have volunteered, Jack." Daniel put the last dish into the dishwasher, closed the door and turned it on. He leaned back against it to watch the others for a moment.

"What, and have to get up again? Not a chance." Jack rinsed the last pot and placed it efficiently on the drainer. "Besides, Teal'c wants to see _A Christmas Story_ again and I don't want to miss that."

"I do not, O'Neill. I fail to see the appeal of watching the same film for twenty-four hours." Teal'c raised an eyebrow in Daniel's direction and allowed a slight smile behind Jack's back.

"Ah, c'mon, T, you can't tell me you didn't enjoy that." Jack gave the sink a final rinse then turned around as he dried his hands on a towel.

"I did enjoy it." Teal'c deftly managed to get the usually difficult cling wrap to cover the leftover mashed potatoes and put them in the refrigerator. "The first time."

"Um, Teal'c," Daniel raised a single finger to emphasize his point, "you did, um, you did seem to like parts of it the second and, if I recall, the third time through."

"Ha! See? I have a witness! You were positively grinning during the lamp scene." Jack nudged Daniel with his shoulder. "He can't deny it, either."

"Indeed, it was most amusing. I was also most taken with the lamp." Teal'c put the last plastic wrap and aluminum foil away and turned to leave the kitchen. "I should like to acquire one for my quarters." With that parting shot, he joined Sam in the living room leaving his two, slightly stunned, teammates staring after him.

"He wouldn't." Jack looked horrified. "You can't keep a thing like that secret, you know." He looked at Daniel and Daniel coughed and frowned to keep from laughing in his face.

"I don't know, Jack." Daniel chose to ignore Jack's second statement. "It might be considered the height of interior design on Chulak." Daniel glanced around the kitchen one last time to make sure nothing had been left undone. "Besides," he tossed back over his shoulder as he walked out, "I kinda liked the lamp, too." Daniel left Jack muttering something about never living it down and accepted Teal'c's nod of congratulations. "Oh, Jack? Why don't you bring the coffee in with you."

"Daniel, where are you going to put it?" Sam was sitting on the sofa, leaning into the corner with her legs stretched out in front of her. She had both hands resting on her stomach. Daniel sat next to her and patted her thigh in sympathy.

"There's always room for coffee, Sam, I thought you of all people would understand that." He smiled benignly at her dirty look.

"Daniel Jackson, I think you will find that phrase most commonly applied to Jello." Teal'c had pride of place in the largest armchair in the room and, Daniel noted, he also had the television remote.

"Of course it is. How silly of me to forget." Sam moved just enough to slap him with the throw pillow she'd been resting her head on. "Ow."

"You deserved it for that." Sam sat up enough to lean over and give him a quick peck on the cheek. "And that was for that luscious standing rib roast." Daniel's pleased smile slowly turned into a suspicious frown.

"You just want me to cook next year, too." Daniel turned sideways to look straight at her and Sam had the good grace to look slightly sheepish at his accusation. She knew her baking skills were excellent, but putting together meals like this one always made her far too anxious to enjoy it.

"How did you get it done inside without burning the outside. I've never managed that."

"Sam, I've got a Ph.D. in philology. I think I can read a cookbook." Jack made his entrance before she could retaliate.

"Carter, it's probably that naquadah powered oven you've got." Jack set their drinks on the coffee table and Daniel eyed the 'tray' he'd brought them in on.

"Jack?"

"Daniel?"

"Is that my cutting board?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Problem?"

"No. No problem."

Sam gave in to the urge to giggle behind her pillow, while Teal'c calmly flipped through the channels, looking for something suitable for the gift giving portion of the afternoon. With a quick glance at Daniel, he stopped on _A Christmas Story_.

"So, Daniel, you finally got with the program and got a real tree this year." Jack settled on the end of the sofa nearest the Christmas tree and reached out to gently tuck in a bit of dangling garland.

"Indeed, Daniel Jackson, this variety is far superior in terms of ornament placement than the variety you usually favor."

"I think I'm being insulted here."

"C'mon, Daniel, you're not fooling any of us. We know why you buy Nobles. Ease of decorating." Sam poked him in the arm and finally reached for her coffee.

Daniel sipped his own coffee and ignored them as they continued dissecting trees from SG-1 Christmases past. He watched the faces of his friends, listened to the warmth in their voices and thought for what seemed the millionth time that week just how lucky he was.

"Earth to Daniel!" Jack's call shook him out of his reverie.

"Oh, sorry." Looking around at his friends, he realized that wasn't going to be enough. "Just…digesting."

"Carter wanted to know," Jack ignored Teal'c's and Sam's reactions, which told Daniel where the question actually originated. "Why you suddenly changed tree types. This isn't something left over from," Jack waved vaguely in the air, "you know, out there?" Daniel toyed briefly with the idea of messing with Jack's head, but decided not to in deference to the season.

"No, Jack." Daniel watched the evil smile spread across Jack's face.

"You nearly said yes, didn't you." Daniel shrugged his surrender and smiled as Jack continued, "I'm so proud!"

"Don't be an ass, Jack." Daniel shook his head sadly. "But to answer your question, the beautiful Colorado Blue Spruce now gracing my living room was purchased from my yard man. Seems someone gave it to him, but he'd already had his heart set on a Scots Pine. I needed a tree, he had one he didn't want, it was a perfect solution."

He looked across the room to his front window just as Ronnie rode by with a huge grin on his face on his new bicycle. Yep. The perfect solution. He looked down into his coffee cup for a moment before glancing at his friends again. Seems like there were a lot of lucky people in the world.

The End


End file.
